Blurr is a Player
by Xylobones
Summary: Blurr is a popular racer. In fact, popular doesn't even begin to describe it. But one insignificant femme has an issue with him, and she's not one to just sit back and watch talent be wasted. Drabble. Set in my Flash Bang series - but isn't vital to it.


**Experiment.**

**Drabble.**

_**TFA**_** version of **_**Spotlight: Blurr**_** set in my Flash Bang universe.**

**Half arsed attempt at making something entertaining to fill the gap between **_**Shards **_**and part three.**

**I didn't exactly work hard on this, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it. It's nice to take a look at Blurr as he was before he joined Intel – an idiot, basically, but with a good core, in all honesty.**

**I may go back over this, one day. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway.**

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><p><span>Blurr is a Player<span>

Blurr was sat in his usual spot – the booth that offered the rest of The Circle's patrons the best view of him. He was sat with a drink in one servo and his other arm over Fasttrack's shoulders. Blurr pointed at one of the dancers onstage.

"I bet I could get with her with my optics closed," he wagered. "Go on, I bet you three rounds of Energon."

Fasttrack pretended to muse over it for a moment. "Go on, then. But if you lose, not only do I want three rounds, I also want you to scrub my hubcaps till I can see my faceplate in them."

"You're on," Blurr replied.

The dance ended, and Blurr slinked over to the stage, suave as always. Now, Blurr was as bold as they come, and didn't think to just wait at the side of the stage. He mounted the stage as if he were walking up to the bar and looped an arm around the targeted dancer's waist. There was no protest, just a major blush and a slight gasp. True to his words, his optics were closed as he kissed her.

The other dancers gasped, jealous, shocked and appalled all at once. Blurr paid them no mind; he just enjoyed himself, especially after the dancer wrapped her arms around him and began to return the kiss. The jaws of the femmes around them dropped as they realised she was _enjoying _it. Then again, they would probably have enjoyed it themselves if it had been them. Honestly, what femme _didn't _want to get with Blurr?

Watching from backstage, an understudy of the main dancer – the one being kissed by Blurr – looked on. She wasn't jealous, or shocked, or appalled. She was disgusted. Sure, she found Blurr attractive, but every time she'd ever heard of him getting with a femme, it was either a one night stand or it lasted for as long as Blurr didn't find someone else more attractive. She wasn't focused on looks at all, she went for personality, and a mech like Blurr did not appeal to her in the least.

Then again, she didn't think it would ever matter. She was an _understudy, _why would anybot want to be with her when they could have the actual dancers? She found herself sickened by the other dancers as they watched with awe at the little show, and grew even further disgusted when she heard numerous wolf whistles and cheers coming from the crowd. How could they find this a good thing? It was horrible!

Blurr finally released the dancer, walking away from her with a wink. He strode down from the stage and back to his booth, where his red coloured companion had his cranial unit in his servos.

"Loser," Blurr chuckled. "Three rounds and a hubcap polish, was it?"

"Primus damn it, Blurr," Fasttrack snarled, although he broke into a grin before long and called to the bartender to prepare another round for his table. "You better be thirsty."

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><p>The understudy left last that evening. She'd spent half a megacycle lecturing the dancer on her kiss with Blurr. She'd told her it meant nothing, that it would <em>never <em>mean _anything. _The understudy told her that she made her sick, and that she was glad she never went on stage if _that _was what happened. The dancer just laughed cruelly and called her jealous.

The understudy walked out into the cool night air. Not even the dazzling display of lights could lift her spark. She just walked along the street with her optics trained on the ground. Before long, however, her attention was caught by a raucous round of laughter. She looked up. Blurr and his friends were drunkenly hobbling along the street, trying to support each other. Her optics narrowed.

"Excuse me? Mister Blurr, sir?"

Blurr turned around to look at her, a look somewhere between bemused and entertained on his faceplate. With a drunk grin, he sloppily sauntered over to her.

"Can I- _HZzzT!_ – help you?" he slurred.

"No, but I think I can help _you," _she hissed. "What do you think of yourself, Blurr?"

"I think I'm pretty- _HZzzT! _–damn fine," he chuckled.

"Well, you're not," she spat. "You're disgusting and vile. How can you stand to use femmes the way you do? Don't you ever just want to be with a femme because you think she's a good bot?"

"Nope," Blurr replied. "They're too- _HZzzT!_ -hard to get with."

"That's my point! All you do is go after the loose femmes who pour over you," she yelled. "Is any relationship of yours genuine?" She pointed to his friends. "Do they _really _like you? Or do they just hang around you because of all the attention you attract?"

"What are you trying to- _HZzzT! _-say?"

"I'm trying to say that nothing about you is genuine! Is being desired _all_ that matters to you? Is there nothing you want more than the attention of other bots?"

Blurr didn't say anything for a moment. Despite being over energised, what she was saying seemed to be getting through to him. He tensed his shoulders and raised his chin.

"I'm not as arrogant as you think," he hissed, his voice under control again. "There's plenty I want other than fame."

"Oh really? Well what is it that you want?" the understudy retorted.

"I want to be somebot that everyone can look at and think "he's the sort of bot I'd like to be," and maybe I've been going about that the wrong way, I don't know. You're probably in a better position to say. But if being a famous racer will get me respect, then that's what I'll pursue."

"There is a _war _brewing, Blurr. And you think winning races and abusing femmes will get you the respect you want?"

"You don't know _two things _about me!" he suddenly yelled. "I'm not conceited and cold sparked or anything else like that! It's all... it's all for the sake of..."

"All for the sake of looking good to your peers?" the understudy suggested. "Pathetic. Why don't you prove that you're better than that? Why don't you put your gifts to some use and help somebot?"

Blurr's processor was suddenly crystal clear as a faint _click _sounded from the rooftops above them. He didn't say a word; he just shoved the femme with all his might out of the way of an incoming blast of gunfire. He saved her life.

"How's that for help?"

Without waiting for her response, he turned on his heel strut and ran. He ran across Iacon to the one place he felt his gifts should be used. He ran all the way to the Metroplex.

The next time the femme saw him, he was a master spy for the Autobots.

And she'd become known as Rosanna.

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><p><strong>Basically, this is a bad attempt at an <strong>_**Animated **_**re-write of **_**Spotlight: Blurr, **_**featuring a lowly understudy instead of young Optimus Prime. And I'm not sure about that mini-twist at the end there.**

**If you haven't, you **_**must **_**get your hands on **_**Spotlight: Blurr – **_**it's awesome.**

**Blurr's "true" personality will come more into play in my prequel to **_**Fragments, **_**in which everyone's favourite speedster will have a brief cameo. Part three is well in development, but I think I will write (more or less) the whole fic before I start posting. The bad news is – this means it's going to be a while. But don't lose faith in me! It is most certainly coming. **

**And it will be epic.**

**Also, it's called **_**Fractures. **_**And the titles do have particular meanings, rather than just being different ways of saying the same thing. But I'll get into that some other time.**

**Anyway, as always:**

**Please review!**

**:D**


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